


Heartthrob

by deciding



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parents, Domestic Bughead, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, bughead - Freeform, bughead trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 22:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11241057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deciding/pseuds/deciding
Summary: On the day he married Betty, at the wedding reception, while giving the maid of honor’s speech, Veronica had quipped about the irony of it all. Jughead had gone from the brooding Holden Caulfield-esque loner outsider to the heartthrob of his own novel, becausehewas the one who ended up marrying the beautiful blonde cheerleader to have the happily ever after with.Veronica hadn’t been wrong.--Jughead's first Father's Day as a father.





	Heartthrob

These mornings were tough. Waking up at the crack of dawn to the sound of a crying baby through the baby monitor. Not that these kind of mornings were new _per se_ \- there had been a period of time, during his sophomore year of high school when he set his alarm for this time, when he had been living in a tiny closet at Riverdale High School. Somehow that had been a better alternative than staying in the trailer park with his usually absent alcoholic father. 

But now, pulling back the sheets carefully as to not disturb his wife, trudging down the hallway in boxers and without his old gray hat, it was worth it. He did it with purpose rather than teenage necessity. He flipped the light switch upward and the wailing got louder, tiny fists reaching out to him through thin air, as if the world was going to crumble without him. 

“It’s okay, Sadie,” Jughead spoke softly as he crossed the distance between the door and the crib to the waiting arms of his daughter. “I’ve got you.”

The baby gurgled and latched onto his faded t-shirt as soon as he lifted her out of the crib and took her up in his arms. The crying halted, screams stopping and turning into incoherent babbles. Sadie smiled at him, a wide toothless grin, and he was a puddle of mush. After a quick diaper change and trip to the bathroom to wash his hands, he kissed her temple and held her against his heart as he walked them towards the kitchen. The only other person that could undo him like that with a smile was the baby’s own mother, the love of his life. 

“You’re hungry, huh, baby?” he asked Sadie as he set her down in the high chair, although he knew she wouldn’t answer. “Me, too.”

He meant it, because he was always hungry. That was one thing he’d never outgrown.

“Let’s try not to wake up your mom, okay?” Jughead posed another rhetorical question. “Let’s let her sleep in a little.”

Sadie banged her chubby fingers on the high chair, eliciting a soft laugh from her father as he grabbed a bottle of pumped breast milk from the refrigerator.

Jughead still couldn’t place his finger on how he’d gotten to this place – successful, married, parenthood, _happy_. This kind of future had seemed so bleak growing up. For so long there’d been no light at the end of the tunnel. No hope. Only darkness.

He grew up knowing he was trailer trash from the south side of Riverdale. And trash was just that – trash. Unwanted, ignored, left over, thrown out. Even his closest friends, Archie and Betty, unknowingly, had made him feel like that. They hadn’t excluded him, and he was always invited, but hey, the two of them had lived next door to each other. They could stand at the windows of their bedrooms and make awkward facial expressions while they communicated through text messages. Hell, they could forego the technology altogether, open their windows, and have actual conversations if they’d wanted. Meanwhile, for Jughead to hang out, he’d had to trek all the way from the trailer park. He had resigned himself to being the third wheel to what he’d assumed would be their eventual fairytale ending.

Archie Andrews had been the big, dumb jock straight out of a cult teen 90’s movie, oblivious to the affection of the prettiest girl in school. That was how Jughead had seen Betty Cooper, anyway, even when people like Cheryl Blossom and Chuck Clayton had tried to make her feel like anything less.

Given the so-called destiny he’d believed his two best friends were meant to have, Jughead hadn’t planned on falling in love with Betty Cooper. He’d always thought his destiny was to remain the weird loner kid, always on the outs. It took until they were sophomores in high school for Jughead to realize Betty was _it_ – the light at the end of the tunnel waiting to envelope him and pull him out of the darkness. And as it turned out, where darkness and light were concerned, they evened each other out. Facing her own demons, her own darkness, Jughead had been her spot of light seeping through.

It was a delicate balance between the two of them until they got out of Riverdale. Just as quickly as he'd put on the leather Southside Serpents jacket, she'd made him vow it was only temporary, to protect himself and to protect them. She made him take an oath that one day when he took it off, it would be for good and he would never put it back on again. Betty had made him promise the civil war in Riverdale wouldn't be the nooses around their necks, and hand in hand, they would make it out of their devil town not just to live, but to thrive.

He couldn't bear to be that person, to let Betty down. Truthfully, he didn’t want to be that person for himself either. Jughead had been let down so many times in his life. So many promises made to him had been broken. So he'd had to follow through, picking up his grades at Southside High, getting a scholarship to college, and leaving behind his Serpent jacket in the bathroom at the Whyte Wyrm on the night after graduation.

Years later, on the day he married Betty, at the wedding reception, while giving the maid of honor’s speech, Veronica had quipped about the irony of it all. Jughead had gone from the brooding Holden Caulfield-esque loner outsider to the heartthrob of his own novel, because _he_ was the one who ended up marrying the beautiful blonde cheerleader to have the happily ever after with. 

Veronica hadn’t been wrong. 

He had written a novel. It had been about Jason Blossom’s murder and its impact on Riverdale. But the narrative was from Jughead’s perspective. He was a constant in the book’s pages because of his connection to all those involved, most notably FP, his father. When the book sold well, even Hollywood had come knocking on his publisher’s door. They’d wanted the film rights to the novel, they wanted to sensationalize the most terrible thing to happen in Riverdale, to tell the story of his teenage angst. They’d even dropped the name of the actor who they would target to play his own ‘character’—a former Disney star with a sharp jaw, slightly nasal voice, and gigantic social media following. 

Jughead never did sign on the dotted line for the project but it was true that he was a living, breathing cliché of the American Dream, and he loved it. He’d grown up to be the heartthrob of his own life. He was reminded of that every time Betty smiled at him, and now, every time Sadie did, too. 

Jughead thought his daughter to be angelic. He saw so much of Betty in her. She was beautiful, so of course that had everything to do with Betty. Selfishly though, he was thrilled to see some of his own features in his daughter’s. Her eyes were mirrors of his own, the color of the ocean, deep blue, almost gray, depending on how the light caught her face. And her infant hair that had never been cut, although golden like her mother’s, swooped dangerously close to her right eye in the same way his did. Betty had taken a picture of them, father and daughter, just a few days ago, showcasing that feature, even though he’d insisted on putting his beanie on before she snapped the photo. She’d squealed in her uniquely Betty way and said she loved it. Jughead hadn’t argued. 

Neither did he argue when she came into the kitchen with nothing but an old t-shirt of his on, barefoot and bedhead evident in her golden hair, slightly frizzy in the humid Illinois heat. He was sitting at the square kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal, having a real one-sided conversation with Sadie, who was still working on the bottle of milk Jughead had warmed up for her. 

“Hi, baby!” Betty greeted Sadie first, blowing raspberries on her cheek and placing kisses on her daughter’s nose before her eyes met Jughead’s. She still had the same bedroom eyes she’d looked at him with the night before. 

Betty leaned down to kiss Jughead on the cheek quickly. “Morning, Juggie.” 

He caught her arm before she could saunter off and pulled her into his lap. He kissed her on the mouth hard, one hand ghosting up under the shirt she was wearing to graze at the bare skin of her upper thigh and one hand cupping the back of her neck. He sighed, content, and for a moment was transported back to a moment—their first _moment_ —in her childhood bedroom surrounded by floral wallpaper. 

There were times when he still felt like he did back then, crawling through her window to comfort her after they’d found Polly at _The Sisters of Quiet Mercy_ , while also nervous, at a loss for words because he wanted to kiss her so badly, to let her know what the connection they’d forged while investigating Jason’s murder meant to him. 

But their conditions were much better now. There was no sleuthing. No floral wallpaper. No Riverdale. There was them, in their cozy brownstone home on the north side of Chicago. There was Sadie, their daughter. There was their family. 

“Morning, Betts,” Jughead replied. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Betty combed a hand through his dark hair, moving it away from his eyes before stroking his cheek with her palm. “I wanted to make you breakfast.” 

“It’s okay.” Jughead shrugged. “Thought you could use the rest. Besides, Sadie and I were bonding.”

Appreciatively, she kissed his shoulder before untangling herself from his lap. Jughead wasn’t usually one to turn down a meal, especially one she cooked. She moved to the sink, to grab a clean bowl from the dish drying rack, to join her family. She took the seat across from Jughead, on Sadie’s other side. Betty picked up the now empty bottle from the high chair and placed it on the opposite corner of the table, where the baby couldn’t be tempted to throw it across the room. 

Before pouring herself her own bowl of cereal, Betty reached out gently to hold her daughter’s hand. “Hey, Sadie,” she addressed the little girl cheerfully, “do you know what today is? It’s Father’s Day! It’s a special day for dads. Did you know this is your daddy’s first Father’s Day since you came into the world?” 

Betty glanced at Jughead to gauge his reaction. They hadn’t really talked about it, Father’s Day. She didn’t even know if he knew what today was, and if he did, she suspected it might have something to do with why he was foregoing any notion of her making pancakes and bacon. 

But Jughead knew. Of course he knew. Like many things growing up, he’d thought of Father’s Day as something ‘normal’ families had. It was a nice little Hallmark holiday for the popular kids, the rich kids, the normal kids. Not for him. Not for Jughead Jones. Not for his fucked up upbringing with an alcoholic father who had spent time in and out of jail. Father’s Day had been just about as bad as his birthday. For him, there was no reason to celebrate. 

He knew it probably carried a weight for Betty for a long time, maybe she even looked forward to it, before her family’s deep dark secrets had come out all those years ago. So fathers and fatherhood were touchy subjects for both of them. 

When they’d found out Betty was pregnant, Jughead’s initial reaction was elation, vibrating with excitement and teary-eyed over how lucky he felt. It took less than a week for his excitement to turn into worry and fear, scared about bringing a child into the same world that had tried to break him. Scared about what kind of father he would turn out to be because of the relationship he had with his own father. Betty had had to remind him of something he’d told her once; they weren’t their parents, they were _them_ , which inherently made them better.

Jughead shifted in his seat and moved his hand across the table, covering her free hand and leaving it there, as if to say it was okay, to go on and say whatever she wanted about Father’s Day to Sadie. He acknowledged that things were different now. It wasn’t all doom and gloom. He didn’t have to hate another Hallmark holiday anymore. Under the table, Betty moved her foot and slid her ankle against his shin, smiling at him, her green eyes shining, full of light.

“Sadie,” Betty cooed at their little girl, “can you say _‘Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!’_ Hmm?”

Sadie looked at her mother in wonder, with her ocean eyes. She laughed but said nothing.

“No?” Betty tilted her head to the side. “Okay. We can work on it.”

Jughead chuckled lightly and shoved another spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

A week ago Sadie had said her first word: _moon_. Betty and Jughead were putting her down for the night, both of them watching over her at the side of the crib. She’d been looking at the mobile above her head, eyes tracking the objects hung on a string—a star, a moon, and a sun. When she pointed her tiny index finger up and squealed out the word “moon!” her parents had fawned over her for the next half hour, so proud, so in awe.

Betty had been picking out words with different phonetic sounds ever since, trying to see if Sadie would repeat any.

“How about _‘Daddy’_?” Betty wondered, pointing at Jughead. “Can you say _‘Daddy’_?” 

Sadie grinned as her eyes lit up and she stabbed her finger in Jughead’s direction. “Juggie!” 

Jughead’s eyes widened, his grip on Betty’s hand tightening.

Betty gasped and her free hand flew to cover her mouth.

“Did she just—” Jughead couldn’t even finish his sentence. 

“Oh my God!” Betty whispered harshly. “Oh my God, Jug.” 

Betty and Jughead looked at each other and looked at their daughter. She seemed to look at them expectantly, like she was waiting for their follow up. 

With a smirk on his face, Jughead slid his chair closer to the high chair and nuzzled the baby with his nose. “Yes. Yes, Sadie. That’s me.” 

Sadie giggled and swatted playfully at Jughead’s face. “Juggie!” 

He started laughing, heart still beating in his throat as the initial shock wore off, before picking her up to bounce her on his knee. _His_ name. Of all the words, of all the names, his daughter had just said his name as one of her first words. 

“She must hear me calling you that and think it’s okay to call you that,” Betty interjected through her own laughter. 

“It is okay,” Jughead answered, preoccupied, tickling Sadie. 

Betty raised an eyebrow. “What? Jughead, you’re her dad. She shouldn’t call you by your first name.” 

“My first name’s _Forsythe_ , Betty.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Betty watched the pair of them, father and daughter, making faces at each other. She bit her lip. It was a sight to see, her family. Her heart was so full because of them. She loved how much Jughead loved their little girl. She’d even say he was a natural. She knew how badly Jughead had been emotionally scarred by his father. By both of his parents, actually. She wanted Jughead to see his relationship with his own daughter was much different, would always be much different, and it was his own doing. That was exactly why she’d brought up Father’s Day and was relieved he wasn’t so emotionally scarred by it that they—with the family they’d made together—could never celebrate for him. 

She wanted him to know everything he did for his family didn’t go unappreciated. She wanted to acknowledge him for who he was, a great husband and already a great father. Today should be the first of many, she thought. 

Of course she hadn’t really expected Sadie to very quickly refer to him as _Daddy_ on request. But Betty hadn’t expected the actual response Sadie ended up giving either. 

“Nearly everyone in my life who loves me has called me ‘Juggie’ at one point or another,” Jughead reminded her. “What’s one more?” 

Cereal forgotten, Betty moved her hand under her chin, thinking about his statement. He was right. She called him that. Archie called him that. Jellybean called him that. It was a short list, but Betty knew it was the only list that mattered to Jughead.

She was glad that today, of all days, he knew his daughter, only ten months old, loved him. She’d given Jughead a unique gift for the first time he was a father on Father’s Day. This was special. 

When Sadie looked at her again, Betty gave in. Not like she ever had a chance with Jughead approving of it and their daughter being so adorable. “Who's that, baby girl?” she motioned at Jughead. “Who's your daddy?” 

Sadie kept staring at her blankly, not understanding that Betty was referring to the person who was holding her. 

“ _Who's your daddy?_ ” Jughead made a face and kicked Betty lightly under the table. “Please never say that again, Betts. It's creepy.”

A new laugh bubbled in Betty’s throat as she rose to her feet. Her bare feet carried her to Jughead’s side, reaching out so she could take Sadie from him. Jughead stood too as they made the transfer. Betty balanced Sadie’s weight around her hip and Jughead snaked a hand around Betty’s waist. 

“Happy Father’s Day, Juggie,” Betty said softly. “I love you.” 

He gave her that look, the one he saved just for her. The look that meant he loved her completely, entirely, with everything he had. She'd seen that look before, when they'd told each other for the first time they loved each other, and on their wedding day, and when Sadie was born. 

“Betty,” Jughead whispered, leaning down to catch her lips in a chaste kiss with his own, “I love you.” 

Their moment was short lived as Sadie grabbed a fistful of Jughead’s hair and pulled it, making him wince. He carefully pried himself from Sadie’s vice grip. 

Jughead bent his knees and leaned down so he was eye level with his daughter. “And _you.”_ He touched her cheeks and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you, too.” 

This time Betty didn't have to prompt Sadie. Her eyes lit up again, grabbing at her father's knuckles, her high-pitched squeal of a voice bold, like she was proud to say it. 

“Juggie!”

**Author's Note:**

> [Story Notes](http://jerepars.tumblr.com/post/161992197900/heartthrob-story-notes) on tumblr, because I'm a crazy person.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments are appreciated. <3


End file.
